


I choose you

by Lilbit903



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Molly Weasley Bashing, POV Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 10:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18737284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbit903/pseuds/Lilbit903
Summary: Set between 4th and 5th year, Kreacher discovers Molly attempting to dose Harry and Hermione with love potions, and drama ensues. This leads to one pressing question from Harry: what is love?Can Hermione tell him.





	I choose you

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don't own anything. If I did I assure you I would be living on a Ranch in Montana surrounded by puppies, goats and horses. Alas I do not. 
> 
> Also: This fic was inspired by the lyrics ,“I want to know what love is, I want you to show me. I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me” from the song, I Want To Know What Love Is- Foreigner. I claim no ownership of it, I only used it as inspiration.
> 
> Also Again: If you haven't already, you should join us on Facebook in the group Harmony & Co. (18+) to find awesome Harmony stories.

Harry and Hermione sat quietly in the parlor of Grimmauld place, while shouting could be heard from the kitchen. A battle of wiles was going on between the Weasley's and Sirius, Remus, Tonks and McGonagall.

Earlier that day, Kreacher had caught Molly attempting to dose both of them, with what she called attraction draughts. Minor Love Potions, at least from what Hermione could discern. Naturally he'd run to tell Sirius, because even though they hated one another, Sirius had given strict orders to protect Harry. Hermione had only been included, because Molly had admitted to dosing them both. 

Sirius had flown in to a fury, yelling at Molly for violating their rights, and Arthur had jumped in in defense of his wife. Remus had joined in against the weasley’s and soon, someone had called both Dumbledore and McGonagall, in the hopes of calming the situation down. It was to no avail. Sirius was adamant that the Weasley’s were to leave his home, and Dumbledore thought Harry needed his friends around him. It was all one big mess. 

“It matters, because he’s my son!” Sirius voice was so loud, it could be heard in the attic where Buckbeak roosted, as shown by the hippogriffs cry. Harry felt his heart swell with the knowledge that Sirius wanted him, even considered him his son. 

“Godson!” Molly shouted back, as if trying to deny any claim Sirius might have over Harry. A silencing charm was finally put in place, ending the cacophony of noise in an instant. 

Hermione rested her head on Harry’s shoulder, and grabbed hold of his hand gently. Harry pressed his cheek to the crown of her head, letting her presence settle the disent welling in his heart. How had this happened? He wondered if perhaps the younger Weasley’s knew as well. Did Ron and Ginny partake in poisoning them, or were they being dosed as well? For, no matter what Molly Weasley might say, the potions she used on them might as well had been poison. 

“Do you think she cares? That she was willing to take away our choice? Make us love someone who we may not have otherwise?” Harry asked, voice disturbing the sound of their breathing. 

Hermione’s fingers gripped his hand harder. “No.” 

A moment’s pause then, “People like her, people who think that what they’re doing is right or just, don’t care for others feelings. People like her don’t know true love, and therefore they couldn’t care less about what a person’s heart may desire, so long as their wants and desires are met. So no, I don’t think Molly Weasley cares a wit about what being forced to love someone would have done to us in the long term, or what type of damage it could have done to her children to be given a false love.” Hermione’s breath hitched in an attempt to cover a sob.

Harry raised his head and turned towards Hermione more, gently grasping her face in his hands. Using his thumbs to wipe away her tears, he was able to readily admit the Hermione was growing into a beautiful girl. Even with tears streaking her cheeks, she was stunning, although he never wanted to see her cry. 

Hermione leaned into his touch, and Harry brought her into his arms for a strong hug. He knew that the feelings he had for her were probably the only real thing in his life now. He’d known since the end of first year that she was special to him, second and third year had only strengthened that. But he wasn’t sure how to put those feelings into words. He knew he’d do anything to protect her, to make her smile, he wanted to be her safe harbour, wanted to be the one she confided in, but he didn’t know if that was what love was. So he asked her. 

“What is love, Hermione? Real love I mean. Can you show me? Or-or tell me? Because honestly all I’ve got to go by is Vernon and Petunia, and I don’t think that’s what love is. It can’t be.” 

Hermione pulled away from him and for a moment, Harry thought she may leave, but instead she pressed her forehead against his. 

“Love is lazy Sunday mornings sleeping in late, and burnt dinners on Monday so you order takeaway instead and laugh over the mistakes of the day. It’s fighting over the bathroom sink in the early Tuesday morning hours because one of you is running late. It’s curling up on the couch on Wednesday evenings going over your week while you play with one another's fingers and ignore whatever bad sitcom is on the telly. It’s getting into a screaming match and being angry all day Thursday, only to curl up together at night anyways. It’s getting all dressed up just to stay in on Friday nights because you prefer each others company to that of the world’s. And it Saturday morning pancakes with flour in your hair and on the table and sticky syrup kisses. Love’s a million little moments and trials and tribulations and God it’s so much work. It’s beautiful and messy and perfect but it’s not forced. Never ever forced, because real love is a choice. It’s choosing one person over and over again even when it’s hard and even when you want to give up. That’s love, Harry.” She told him, a smile spread across her lips. 

Harry breathed in one moment and in the next he breathed out, “And what if I want to choose you?” 

Hermione’s eyes met his. One heartbeat, then two, and finally lips pressed against his and it was as if he could feel all the things she described. The warmth of a Sunday morning, the tangles of fingers together, the smell of pancakes, the passion of a fight, the rush of being late. All of it swelled inside him when he kissed her, and for a moment, he knew there could never be anything better than this. 

The rest of the world didn’t matter, not their opinions or the hate, because he could withstand it all with her. He’d choose her, a thousand times and then a thousand more, and he would never stop choosing her, because he knew then in the deepest part of his heart that no other love could or would compare to this. Because this was as natural as breathing, and any other love would be forced. 

When they broke apart, they were both breathing heavily. Harry trailed a hand down the side of her face, a smile across his face. Her answering smile was more than enough, because he knew she’d chosen him too, so no matter what may happen, they would survive, together.


End file.
